Page 86 of The Holy Grail
Seeing a glass on the counter that was likely Beverly’s drink, Jules pointed to it. “What’s that?”
“A sidecar,” Beverly answered.
“I’ll take one of those. It’s been a while since I had one.”
“What’s your favorite drink?” Beverly wanted to know as she began making another sidecar.
“I love gimlets.”
After Jules was given her drink and Malcom was handed an old fashioned, Beverly had them toast to ‘Character references’, which caused him to make a face.
Malcom’s father arrived shortly after that, joining them in the parlor.
He greeted Beverly first, with a polite head tilt and a cool, “Hello, Beverly. Good to see you.”
“Hello, Monroe,” she greeted him back.
Monroe was average height, with steel-gray hair, and a stern resting face. Jules got the feeling he was short on humor and long on misery, and as he approached Malcom, Jules saw the older man’s expression shift slightly at seeing the pink shirt, and noticed the distinctly cool relationship between father and son, which bordered on uncomfortable.
“Malcom,” Monroe said, extending a hand to his son.
Malcom, who had one arm around Jules’ shoulder, shook the proffered hand with his free one. “Hi, Dad.” Then, motioning to Jules, Malcom said, “I’d like you to meet Jules Shaw. Jules, this is my father, Monroe.”
There was no hug from Monroe. He took her hand in a firm grip and held it for a moment before letting go, but not before she caught the faint smell of bourbon. “Jules.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Monroe,” she told him, having a feeling that was going to become a lie before the night was over.
Expecting to engage in some small talk with him, she was a little surprised when he went to the bar and poured himself several fingers of bourbon, instead. At first, Jules thought his borderline rude behavior was deliberate, but then decided he was just being himself, and at that particular moment, the need for a drink was more important than observing the ‘rules’ of social interactions.
She could tell Monroe’s actions were already giving Malcom some anxiety, so she squeezed his hand and gave him a quickIt’s fine, look.
When it was time for dinner a few minutes later, they headed to the dining room, which was semi-formal, with lovely, celery-green silk wallpaper, a green and navy Persian rug, and a rather nice chandelier. The table, which could comfortably seat twelve, was set for four with beautiful china, crystal glasses, and sparkling silverware. Small, lit candles were placed in the center of the table, giving the space a soft glow.
Malcom and Jules sat on one side, with Beverly and Monroe on the other.
Yvonne, the housekeeper that Jules had spoken with on the phone a few months ago, served them dinner. She was a middle-aged woman in black pants and a white shirt, with her brown hair pulled back in a bun, and a friendly smile.
After Jules complimented Beverly on everything, Monroe started the conversation. “So, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself, Jules? My son has been rather secretive about you.”
“Monroe,” Beverly admonished. “He hasn’t been secretive.”
Jules glanced at Malcom and he gave her a quick nod, letting her know hehadbeen a little secretive about her.
“I’m not being critical,” Monroe returned, finishing his drink and holding it up to Yvonne, signaling he wanted another one. “I’m just stating a fact.”
“Well, the word ‘secretive’ makes him sound like he’s five years old.”
“Fine. Let me rephrase that.” Monroe’s tone was bland as he faced Jules again. “He’s been less thanforthcomingabout you.”
Jules gave him her polite smile. “Where would you like me to start?”
“How about with what you do for a living?”
She wasn’t surprised he suggested she lead off with something as boring as that, and for a moment, she almost wished she was a stripper, because that would have been fun. “I’m a managerial accountant.”
That announcement seemed to shock Monroe just as much, and his eyebrows rose for a moment. “A managerial accountant? Really.”
“That’s right.” Malcom reached over and took her hand so he could plant a kiss on it. “Beautyandbrains.”
